


Time Out of Joint

by Akallabeth



Series: Les Misérables Fix Fic Game [1]
Category: Les Misérables (TV 2018), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Era, Canonical Child Abuse, Fix Fic, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kid Fic, Kidnapping, Time Travel, for certain 'canons', spoilers for BBC Les Mis miniseries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-10 14:31:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17427713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akallabeth/pseuds/Akallabeth
Summary: Combeferre builds a time machine, Courfeyrac uses it to help children, and some minor temporal anomalies could/will/have resulted.[Ie, a short fix fic in which C & C have adventures, Cosette gets away from the Thenardiers earlier, and no one is yelled at by CAPSLOCK!Valjean.]





	Time Out of Joint

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for mentions of child abuse, prostitution, kidnapping.

“The ethical implications are quite clear”, Courfeyrac observed.  


Combeferre said nothing, wholly focused on the instruments before him. He fiddled with a dial, peered intently at gauge, and did something unintelligible with an object which looked almost--but not quite--entirely unlike a compass.  


"Our goal was always to give children a better future", Courfeyrac continued. "Not necessarily one at time, but it is a start all the same."  


“Please, I need to concentrate.”  


“My good Combeferre, I have full faith and confidence in you ability to brood over ethical problems while driving a dangerously complicated and reality-defying vehicle of your own making", Courfeyrac replied. "Which is why I thought it worthwhile to remind you that Cosette specifically asked us to do this, and provided the coordinates herself. It's not like we're kidnapping children."

"Except that we technically are, in this timeline." Combeferre--eyes still fixed on the dial array--scribbled something on the slate on his lap. "The other problem is that we're changing the future--"

"So does teaching in Feuilly's free school."

"--in ways we can't fully comprehend. This isn't just reading. We are altering time itself. We cannot fully predict all of the ramifications of what we're doing, or who may be affected!"

Combeferre's gaze stayed on the instrument panel, even as his speech grew agitated in ways Courfeyrac usually only observed in association with philosophical treatises, the discovery of a new species of moth, innovation in steam engines, social reform, arteries, grammar... Alright, Combeferre got excited about everything. People just tended to forget, because he was really good at being quietly calm in between outbursts of enthusiasm. 

It was time to get them back on task, at any rate. "First attempt: the inn at Montfermeil, spring 1821. We can fall back if something goes wrong--earlier gets Cosette out sooner, but decreases the likelihood that she's willing to leave, the innkeepers' willingness to part with her, and the availability of extra chances."

"A trade between the security of the mission and of its target", Combefere muttered. He was undoubtedly composing a monograph on the ethics of time travel, while monitoring the instruments in their closet-like wooden box, and mentally correcting the calculations.

**

The little spring in the woods would have been ideal, Cosette had said. She'd always been alone there--not to mention frightened and desperate--but except for Christmas Eve of 1823 she could not say with any certainty which nights she had been sent there. They had debated watching it on multiple evenings, but the few minutes per month she could actually be found there made it impractical. No, the only place she was sure to be found was in the inn, where she worked by day, and slept under the stairs by night.

The vehicle jolted to a halt, despite there being no sensation that it had been moving in the first place.  


"We have arrived."  


"Right. We'll try to wake Cosette--this younger Cosette--by tapping on the kitchen window. No one else should be awake, or notice we were here. 'The Lark' just flies off on her own."

It turned out, there was a dog on the premises. One that liked the barefoot girl who shared its niche under the stairs.

**

After a hasty retreat, they arrived at the previous morning, for option two. Madame Thénardier did not like Cosette, and had been willing enough to turn her out once. Mornings were the best time to find her alone in the inn with only the children for company: two little girls playing underfoot, a third scrubbing the rough tables, and (by the sound of it) an unattended infant crying in the kitchen.

Unfortunately, Combeferre's gambit of pretending to be Cosette's uncle earned a side-eye from the Thénardiess, and Courfeyrac's usually-irresistible charm seemed to anger her rather than smoothing the situation.

They regrouped. 

"If Cosette--the adult Cosette--were to come with us," Courfeyrac speculated, "the physical resemblance to her younger self would reinforce her claims to be a relative."  


"I'm not sure it's safe to meet oneself out of time. Remember Pontmercy? Not to mention all those pigeons..."  


Courfeyrac considered this (Pontmercy, not the inexplicable storm of pigeons). "Cosette is steadier that Marius in some respects, but even describing the inn distressed her. I'm willing to risk a few more uncomfortable encounters for us before making one for her. You're sure there's no way of bringing her mother to her instead of the other way around?"  


"Would you trust two strangers who promised to take you from Montreuil-sure-Mer to Montfermeil in a shed?"  


"Fair point. Although I recall a few of Jehan's stories which begin that way and ended well enough."  


**

The next (previous) day, all comers were being turned away from the inn. 

"Ferrying Pontmercy to visit his father was a not nearly so complicated", Courfeyrac observed from the safety of their closet-like vehicle. It blended in well enough with the sheds and outbuildings beyond the inn's stable, though someone was eventually bound to notice the new addition.

Combeferre pointedly said nothing about Bonaparte, and set about arranging their next leap back.

"This not a prosperous establishment. They surely need all the custom they can get", Courfeyrac mused.  


"Then if the inn is closed", Combeferre reasoned, "it must be for some activity more lucrative than boarding travelers."  


"Crime?"  


"Crime." 

Combeferre paused a moment. "It would almost be easier to intercept Cosette's mother before they arrived here. Cosette didn't know the exact date?"  


"No", Courfeyrac confirmed. "She thought it was sometime in the spring of 1818. Do we just wait by the road and warn all women carrying babies that they should't leave them at the Montfermeil Inn?"  


"That could only be a net good for the children in this district, but I was thinking more about suggesting that they stay together while she works in the provinces--or even returns to Paris where gossip is easier to avoid. If it comes to it, you can be very persuasive, my friend."  


"Thank you for the confidence, but I'd prefer to save _seducing a friend's mother_ for a final resort."

**

One day less found both Thénardiers up and about early in the morning. Madame's shouted instructions at Cosette could be heard from the street outside. She departed for the drapers' stall with her own daughters, leaving her husband to review the accounts.

The friends decided to proceed with plan three: pay off the innkeeper. It had, apparently, worked before.

However, when Combeferre suggested hiring the girl called 'the lark' as a companion to his daughter, M. Thénardier did not bring up any spurious debts to be settled.

The innkeeper instead gave a lecherous smile, and repeated the word 'companion' in a way that made Courfeyrac shift the grip on his sword cane.

"1500 francs", Thénardier said. "She'll keep you _gentlemen_ good company."

Courfeyrac badly wanted to remove Thénardier's lecherous smirk (perhaps in a permanent manner), but instead braced himself for whatever dissembling his friend found most expedient. The important thing was to get Cosette out of this place. 

Courfeyrac expected Combeferre to strike the bargain with a token amount of agreement. He anticipated--at some point _after_ Cosette was safely away--a screed against 'the market in human flesh', the Saint-Lazare, and people who harm children.

He did _not_ anticipate the great pleasure of watching Combeferre look a man directly in the eye while punching said man in the face. The frail innkeeper fell backward, his face red with blood and already blackening in a bruise.

**  


They had taken the precaution of inquiring after Fantine in advance, and timed their arrival for just after nightfall. The factory closed with the sun, and the streets were slowly emptying of workers going home for their supper. Cosette clung to Combeferre's hand as they walked through the streets; on her other side, Courfeyrac carried a leather valise (which may have borne the faint inscription of 'M. Pontmercy No. 6 Rue Filles-du-Calvaire').

When they reached the lodgings, Courfeyrac went ahead, spinning for the landlord a very convincing tale of a tragic boating accident, and a unfortunate orphan child being sent to her aunt. A hopeful allusion or two to a 'legacy', and a verbose quantity of legal jargon, got the trio quickly show up to Fantine's attic room. It also--somehow--left the landlord with an impression that speaking about any aspects of the case would leave him liable for damages, under an obscure-but-still-valid provision of the Napoleonic Code.

A faint light showed under the door at which the landlord knocked.  


"These two gentlemen to see you, Mademoiselle, on legal business."  


The blonde woman who had opened the door started at that word. Courfeyrac gave the man a withering look that bespoke legal culpability, and the landlord fairly fled back downstairs.  


"Nothing so serious as that, Mademoiselle Fantine", Combeferre said in his most soothing professional tones. Before any further explanation could be offered, Cosette darted into the attic room, with a cry of "Maman!"

"Cosette!?"

They embraced, with no notice for anyone else in the world. An older woman, seated next to the sole candle, a half-sewn shirt still in her hands, looked on and beamed.

Courfeyrac set down the valise, just inside the garret door. "This belongs to the girl. We must be off."

A moment later, Fantine remembered her manners enough to thank the gentlemen, but they were already gone. 

When she finally opened the valise, Fantine found a list of addresses in Paris, a sealed note with her name on it, a pair of children's shoes, a good piece of linen, two dress lengths of mousellaine de laine, a very elegant doll, and a porcelain chocolate pot.

Inside the pot were 3000 francs.

**Author's Note:**

> Afterwards: The Thénardier children also get away. On their fourth time-machine-assisted attempt, Les Amis make the July Revolution end in a republic. They also live happily ever after.
> 
> This fic was inspired by the interesting timeline choices in the new series, and the new, grittier Thénardiers. The multiple attempts to rescue Cosette (and fix things up for Marius, Éponine, et all) are definitely responsible for any apparent irregularities in local space-time.
> 
> Team Hot Chocolate for Cosette was founded by melle93.tumblr.com, and currently has extended to include all of the children in Les Misérables. This work has one deliberate homage to the prose of Douglas Adams, and several to the _Les Mis_ musical. I do not envision the time machine as a Tardis, per se, but figured a blank space worked better for hand-waving-science-magic technology than basing the shape on any sort of a contemporary boat or carriage.


End file.
